


Dear Shadow

by wholemleko



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, Crying, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Invisible Snusmumriken | Snufkin, M/M, Nightmares, Pining, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws, The Mymble only vaguely appears, did i go overboard with the angst? maybe, injuries, perhaps a bit ooc, snufmin is mostly implied since these dumbasses don't know how feelings work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholemleko/pseuds/wholemleko
Summary: Snufkin arrives in Moominvalley months later than usual, unable to understand his own feelings and haunted by a longing for safety. He quickly leaves again in the hopes of escaping his feelings, but finds that that's not what he really needs.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll & Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 170





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first Moomin fanfiction and I'm pretty sure the characters are rather OOC, but hopefully that's alright. This story was inspired by the songs "Evelyn Evelyn" by Evelyn Evelyn and "Tiger Mountain Peasant Song" by Fleet Foxes. I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you'll all enjoy reading it as well! c:

The heat of early summer had washed over Moominvalley by the time Snufkin finally showed up that year. The notes of a rather scattered, anxious tune rose above the trees from his harmonica, and immediately upon hearing the sound, Moomin was up and running. Snufkin had barely emerged from the woods when Moomin practically tackled him, calling out his name in excitement. Snufkin stumbled a bit, his heart suddenly beginning to hammer as excitement flooded his limbs. But, he simply gave Moomin a quick, awkward hug in return before pulling away and tucking his harmonica into his pocket. All the while Moomin showered him with questions, jumping up and down, unable to contain himself. 

"Where were you, Snufkin? We were all so worried about you! Why, I even started to wonder if you’d come back at all! Did something happen? Are you alright? I was scared something might’ve happened, I don’t know what I’d—"

"Woah, easy there," Snufkin said, chuckling, daring to rest a paw on Moomin’s shoulder. It was good to finally be back. "I just felt that I had to be alone a little longer than usual this year, but there’s no need to worry, I’m alright." Snufkin sent Moomin a smile, hoping it could hide the uneasiness that began to creep up inside him.

By the saddened look that overtook Moomin’s eyes, Snufkin knew Moomin felt that Snufkin hadn’t wanted to come back, hadn’t wanted to be around them, and Snufkin felt a small pang of guilt deep in his chest. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been gone for so long, perhaps it wasn’t fair… 

"It’s not that I didn’t miss your company, I really did, I always do. There was just something else I had to deal with," Snufkin explained, beginning to make his way towards his usual camping spot, too uneasy now to stand still for too long. As they went, Snufkin could practically feel Moomin’s worried gaze burning into the back of his head. He shouldn’t have been gone for so long. He’d worried everyone, but perhaps it was for the better that he’d taken his time.

~ • ~

Once Snufkin had finished setting up his campsite with Moomin’s help, Moomin headed home. It seemed he could tell that Snufkin wanted to be left alone for a little while. However, his worried look never went away, and neither did the twinge of guilt Snufkin carried. 

Snufkin looked over his campsite, and turned to look over the familiar valley. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but the place really did almost feel like another home. He couldn’t help but think, he’d missed it a great deal. 

He sat beside the river on the sandy bank, feeling the rough, dry grass beneath his paws. He watched the slow-moving waves and the ribbons of light that reflected off of them. Something alike to an ache grew in his chest. He’d felt that feeling quite a bit throughout the past few months. It was a feeling both crushing and hollow all at once. He couldn’t seem to make it go away.

Snufkin wrapped his arms around himself, thinking back to the way that Moomin had engulfed him in a hug the moment he stepped into the valley. He felt so very safe there, and yet, safety felt so very far away. It had felt so very far all winter.

Snufkin stood and began to pace, allowing his mind to wander as he went. Hours passed as he went back and forth about the water’s edge, watching the glinting light as it faded from a pale gold to a heavy red from the setting sun. Snufkin looked to the Moominhouse every now and then, imagining a familiar figure running his way. But no, he couldn’t allow these silly little fantasies to prod at his mind all the time. He couldn’t allow himself to become so captured by these thoughts. 

As the last haze of the sun faded behind the mountaintops, Snufkin settled down on his log. He watched the fire’s embers as the breeze whisked them away, far away, and listened to the crackling of the burning wood. Smelled the sweet smoke. His paw traced the surface of the log’s bark in the empty spot beside him.

Night fell, drowning the valley in a deep, warm darkness, the mountains like the comforting and sheltering walls of a home. Snufkin felt a bolt of energy race up his spine as he spotted movement in the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Moomin running along the path towards his campsite. He couldn’t help but allow a soft smile to grace his lips. Moomin hurried up to the log where Snufkin sat, filling that empty space beside him. 

"Mind if I join you?" Moomin asked with a gentle smile. His eyes met Snufkin’s, and Snufkin felt the giddiness in his chest only continue to grow. Moomin’s blue eyes were full of flecks of gold from the fire and his fur glowed in the soft light. 

"Not at all," Snufkin responded, feeling heat rising in his face. He looked down and pulled down the rim of his hat.

For a moment there was silence, Moomin glancing about as if searching for what to say.

"Are you sure you’re alright?" Moomin asked after a time. "Little My and I saw you pacing around earlier, and she said you looked upset. And, well, you haven’t seemed much like yourself, and you came back so late too… But— I-If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay too!" Moomin added.

Snufkin let out long sigh, his giddiness quickly replaced with that old hollow feeling. He watched as the fire flickered and danced, and his smile disappeared.

"You see, something’s been bothering me a lot lately, and I can’t seem to get my mind off of it, no matter how hard I try," Snufkin said at last. "And I didn’t want to bring anyone down with my somber mood, so I figured it would be best I stayed away for a while. I’m sorry."

As Snufkin spoke, he knew it wasn’t entirely true. But he refused to see it any other way.

"Don’t be sorry, Snuf," Moomin placed a paw on Snufkin’s shoulder, giving him a sad glance. "You know no matter what sort of mood you’re in, I’ll always be happy to have you around, always."

Snufkin smiled a bit, but looked down and pulled his hat down once more to shield his face in embarrassment. The feeling of Moomin’s paw on his shoulder seemed to flood his whole body with warmth, and he relaxed just a bit. Once more he took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh.

"I suppose I’ve just been thinking a lot, about my parents. You know how they abandoned me. And… I suppose I’ve just been wondering what could possibly have been their reason. I— I can’t help but wonder if they saw me as expendable, or if I was an accident, o-or a mistake," Snufkin stopped when he felt a tightness in his throat. No, no, no. That wouldn’t do. He mustn’t cry in front of anyone. And yet, he couldn’t stop the tears from gathering in his eyes as he continued. "I wonder if I was simply never meant to exist in the first place. Or maybe with all her children, my mother thought I was too much trouble to care for." His breathing was growing uneven and he took a deep breath in the hopes of steadying it. "And I thought of you and Moominmamma and I just couldn’t help but envy you. And that’s no good, I know." Another deep breath. "The way she cares, for you, for all of us, the way she hugs you, the way she reassures you, she’s always there. I just wish I— could have had that—" His voice broke and he pulled down his hat even farther, catching a tear with his sleeve just as it fell from his eye.

"Oh Snuf…" Moomin said softly, his voice near a whisper. He gently rubbed Snufkin’s shoulder with his thumb. "You’re not expendable! You’re not a mistake! You’re my best friend and I’d be really really sad if you didn’t exist! Remember that, okay? You’ll always have a home here with us."

Snufkin smiled a bit, rubbing at his eyes. He sniffled and let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, Moomin…"

"Say, you wanna stay with us in the Moominhouse tonight?" Moomin suggested.

"Sure… that would be very nice," Snufkin replied, sniffling again. It felt as though a weight had lifted from his chest, and he took Moomin’s paw from his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. His paw was wonderfully soft, and he couldn’t hep but think to himself, how much he wished they could hold paws like so more often.

The pair made their way back to the Moominhouse, surrounded by a chorus of crickets in the grass, and for the first time in nearly a year, Snufkin felt at ease. He was exhausted, yes, but with Moomin by his side, he was content. He gazed up to the onyx sky and traced the current of stars that stretched above the valley. 

As they entered the house, they were met with the scent of chamomile and lavender tea, and the warm glow of candlelight. Moominpappa was seated by the kitchen table, reading quietly, and he looked up from his book as the pair made their way towards the living room stairs.

"Good evening, boys," he said in a hushed voice, giving them a smile. "Snufkin, will you be staying here tonight?"

Snufkin nodded. "If it’s alright with you."

"Of course, you’re always welcome. Moomin, you’ll prepare the guest room for him, will you?"

Moomin nodded, and Snufkin couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment, which he quickly brushed off. 

"Good, good. Have a good night, you two," Moominpappa said, smiling once more before looking back down to his book.

"Goodnight," Moomin and Snufkin responded, before continuing on their way. They hurried up the stairs, careful not to make too much noise. When they reached the landing, Moomin turned to Snufkin with a sheepish look. "Say, you wanna stay with me at all? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you last, after all…"

Snufkin’s eyes lit up at this and a smile quivered on his lips, as much as he tried to hide it. "That would be alright," he said simply.

The two readied themselves for sleep and crawled into bed. A cool breeze slipped through the window that had been left a crack open, the curtains waving gently. A shaft of moonlight struck the floor. Snufkin curled up beneath the warm blanket, wishing he could edge closer to Moomin, but resisting, and remaining still. 

Snufkin found himself slowly lulled into a dreamless sleep by the sound of the creaking house, the crickets, and Moomin’s soft, steady breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the next chapter! Foolish children do foolish things. I hope you all enjoy!

When the morning came and the sun flooded the room with its rays, Snufkin awoke to find that he had overslept quite a bit. He looked to Moomin’s side of the bed and with quite a bit of disappointment, found that it was empty. The sounds of chattering voices rose up from the kitchen, and with it, the smell of waffles. Snufkin stretched and stood. He could recognize several voices—Moomin and his family, along with Snorkmaiden and Little My. He made his way out of the room and down the old wooden stairs. He had nearly reached the kitchen when he overheard snippets of Snorkmaiden and Little My’s conversation.

"—really think they left him because he was an accident?" Came Snorkmaiden’s voice. "That sounds just dreadful!" 

Snufkin stiffened.

"Well if he’s gonna cry about it then maybe. I never knew the reason, but our mother didn’t seem too bothered about leaving him. She had dozens of other mouths to feed after all." Little My’s voice rang in reply.

"Shhh, guys! He might hear you!" And finally, Moomin’s voice.

Snufkin felt as though someone had just stabbed him in the ribs, and he felt betrayal flare up in his chest, burning his cheeks. Moomin told them about what he had said? And now they were just, casually having a chat about it over breakfast? The heaviness and aching Snufkin had felt through the winter and spring seemed to drop right on top of him, crushing him once more. He stood for a moment, baffled, but forced himself to regain his composure. Just had to pretend he hadn’t heard a thing. He continued down the stairs and sauntered into the kitchen, his expression blank.

"Good morning, Snufkin," Moominmamma said as he made his way to the table. "Did you sleep well?"

Snufkin nodded simply. Rather than sitting with the others, he took up a plate and three waffles, and made his way to the cushioned seat by the window. When he sat down, he examined each of the faces around the table. Moomin and Snorkmaiden were both smiling with a hint of guilt, and Snufkin shuddered when he made eye contact with Little My. She only stared back at him knowingly. I know you heard us! her smile seemed to say. 

"Hi, Snuf!" Moomin said at last. "Sorry if we woke you with our noise, you seemed to be really tired!"

Snufkin looked down at his waffles. He had no appetite at all. "Yeah, I suppose I was quite tired from my travels." He looked up but avoided Moomin’s eyes, forcing a smile. "Thank you for uh, letting me stay."

"It’s no problem," Moomin responded, "I’m really— hey! Stop that!" Moomin was interrupted by Snorkmaiden trying to steal part of his waffle. The two began playfully scuffling over it, giggling.

Once more, Snufkin looked down at his food, still untouched. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to block out the sound of their laughter and teasing to no avail.

He glanced up briefly only to see Moomin and Snorkmaiden bump snouts as they scuffled, Moomin growing flustered and Snorkmaiden giving him a doe-eyed look. Snufkin winced in response. He couldn’t stand the way they shared that look just then. Perhaps it was best he didn’t stay much longer. He stood from the seat and placed his full plate on the table.

"I’m sorry but, I think I may go fishing. I haven’t touched these, so if anyone wants them, feel free to take them." He didn’t care at the moment if what he was doing came off as rude. He wanted to leave and sort out his thoughts, and he couldn’t stand to watch Moomin and Snorkmaiden’s nauseatingly sweet interactions any longer. 

Before anyone had the chance to respond, he hurried away to the door and left the house. 

The sun was sharp above him, giving the meadows a vibrant glow, and the mountains cast inky pools of shadow across the near-fluorescent greenery. The grasses and wildflowers buzzed with life as insects went about their business, and the air was thick with heat. Snufkin’s boots crunched against the gravel and sand on the path that led to the bridge and his campsite. When he reached his tent, he rummaged through his possessions in search of his fishing rod, but when he’d retrieved it, he found himself much too distracted to will himself to fish. He didn’t feel like eating anyway either. He placed his rod back where he’d found it and made his way of the tent and to the water’s edge, sitting on the sandy bank in resignation. He peered up to the Moominhouse, praying that Moomin’s figure would appear in the doorway, and come running to him again as he had last night, and when he’d first arrived. In spite of his present frustration, he longed to be near him, with him.

He couldn’t quite make sense of it. Just why would he want Moomin’s company so terribly when he had just betrayed his trust? Shouldn’t he be more upset? And yet, Snufkin was upset. But he wished for Moomin to be near him regardless.

Snufkin pushed the thoughts away as he gazed into the slow-moving water, examining his own reflection. His tired eyes and slumped shoulders. This wasn’t like him. This wasn’t like him at all. 

He couldn’t recall feeling such a powerful longing in years. The last time he’d felt this way was when he’d found out that he and Little My were siblings. After that, he’d spent months thinking of Little My’s stories about their mother, trying to picture her in his mind, and instead, finding nothing but blankness, and a longing to remember at the very least her voice. But try as he might to recall even a single clear memory of her, all he found was nothing.

And now, he found himself tormented not only by that longing, but also another longing, for the warmth he’d found in the valley. Oh, he’d allowed himself to slip again, to trap himself again. The valley had captured him. He shouldn’t have let himself grow so attached…

He had to create distance, he decided as he looked up once more to the Moominhouse and the empty path leading to it. He stood slowly, feeling a tightness in his throat once more. He had to leave. He had to get his mind off this place, get away from the longing. He entered his tent once more, gathering what little he had and arranging it in his bag outside. As he placed several items in one of the pockets, he spied the collection of stones and other small, pretty objects that Moomin had given him over the years. Almost instantly, his vision blurred and two droplets fell into his bag, hitting a pale orange shell. Snufkin stood and looked up, willing any remaining tears not to fall. He rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, taking a deep breath and shaking the tension from his limbs. He had to maintain his composure. Getting so worked up was pointless. He just had to leave for a little longer. He’d be back by next spring, he decided, and on time. But for now, he needed to get away.

The pattering of paws sounded on the path, and Snufkin felt a jolt of fear. He turned to see Moomin running up to him with an anxious look. As he approached, Moomin eyed Snufkin’s bag, nearly completely packed, with just the tent left to take down. 

"Snufkin, what… what are you doing?" Moomin asked, his eyes flooding with guilt and worry. 

"I have to go. I realized I need more time… I’m sorry if I’ve troubled you at all…" Snufkin replied, his voice hushed and his face hidden by the rim of his hat. 

"W-What? You can’t go yet, you just got here!" Moomin exclaimed, grabbing a hold of Snufkin’s arm.

"I’m sorry, really! Please understand, I need this," Snufkin responded, tugging at his arm. 

"I-I don’t understand! What’s the matter?" Moomin demanded, his expression growing frantic.

Snufkin flinched at this. Little My’s biting voice still rang in his mind—our mother didn’t seem too bothered about it. She had dozens of other mouths to feed after all. He remained still for a moment, holding the edge of his bag with his free paw. How could Moomin be so clueless?

"Why did you tell the others?" Snufkin finally asked, his voice still so quiet, it was barely audible over the rushing water and birdsong.

Moomin was a bit stunned, and his face flushed in shame. "W-Well, I don’t really know. It was just on my mind a lot, I guess…"

Snufkin sighed. He pulled his arm away from Moomin’s grasp. "Maybe you could have considered my privacy." He was shocked to hear the biting tone in his own voice. He avoided Moomin’s gaze as he hurried to his tent and began to take it down. "I think this was just a bad year for me," he said as the tent collapsed. "I’ll be back next year, at my usual time."

"You’re really going?" Moomin asked, looking at the collapsed tent with dread. "You can’t go, not yet! I’ve hardly seen you, and I’ve missed you so much—"

"Please," Snufkin interrupted, his voice stern. "I need to do this. And maybe, just maybe, the next time I tell you something personal about myself, you don’t go about telling it to other people." He nearly hissed as he began packing away the elements of his tent.

"Oh please don’t go! I’m sorry, I really am, i-if there’s anything I can do to make up for it, I—" Moomin begged, grabbing a hold of the canvas Snufkin was trying to roll.

"You can make up for it by letting me go!" He tugged at the canvas, but Moomin’s grip was firm and his expression was determined. "Don’t be like this, Moomin!"

"I can’t just let you wander off all by yourself, not when you’re like this! What if—"

"I’ll be fine, let me be!" Snufkin snapped, growing increasingly agitated. 

"I just want to make sure you’re okay—" Moomin insisted.

"Well I’m not, thank you very much! I say, I’ll be better off alone for a while, and far from here!" Snufkin cringed at his own words.

"Please, Snuf, I miss you so much, I couldn’t take it if I couldn’t see you for a whole other year!"

"For heaven’s sake Moomin let me alone and stop thinking of yourself!" Snufkin gave a final tug to the canvas, pulling it from Moomin’s paws. "You betrayed my trust! You went about talking about something so personal to me over breakfast like it was fodder for a nice chat! Don’t you know how hard it is for me to be honest? So stop being so selfish and let me go." Without a word, he finished packing his bag. Moomin sat stunned in the grass, watching him with tear-filled eyes. 

Snufkin straightened his hat, taking a shaky breath. He examined his bag, and his empty campsite, before looking off into the distance at the sunlit mountainside. The beauty of the place felt almost like a mockery now. He couldn’t bear to look Moomin in the eyes, not now, not with the rising guilt seeping into his lungs. "See you next spring," he said quietly, slinging his bag over his shoulders. He began to walk away. 

"Bye," Moomin’s voice was small.

Snufkin’s heart wrenched but he kept going. He had to go. He had to wait this out, until he could be back to his normal self. For now, he’d surely be nothing but trouble to all of them. He already was. He had to go.

The sun was nearing the tops of the mountains, the shadows all around growing longer as Snufkin entered the pine woods. The orange needles that littered the ground rustled beneath his boots and the branches above sent the dying sunlight shimmering over him. All was quiet. 

Snufkin’s anger began to dissipate and suddenly each step he took felt unbearably heavy. He stared blankly to the path ahead, willing the feeling to leave him. And yet, Snufkin stole a glance behind him, and there he saw Moomin sitting on the bridge—their bridge—hiding his face in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Snufkin's travels resume. People don't take too kindly to the prospect of someone being invisible.

The chilling mountain breeze stung Snufkin’s cheeks as he wandered, farther and farther from the valley. It was the early morning, just before the sun would rise, and the sky glowed a pale yellow-grey. He hadn’t slept a moment that night, only continued his trek, willing his emotions away and allowing the cool air of the night and blankness of the rocky faces of the mountains to numb him. Snufkin climbed up and down outcrops of stone, their cool, rough surface craping at his paws. The trees here were quite small, short enough that on the steeper slopes, Snufkin could look back and see much of the valley through the tops of their crowns. It would have been a beautiful sight, if looking back didn’t fill him with a flaring, painful guilt. Every bone in his body told him not to leave, to go back, and apologize, and spend the summer as he always would. And yet he pushed onward.

The sky turned to a white haze as the sun peered over the horizon, the mountains like stark black silhouettes against it. Like rows and rows of massive, sleeping beasts. Farther ahead was what looked like an endless stretch of meadows, separated from the sky only by the tiny, distant strip of silhouettes of buildings of a far away city. The gentle expanse was dotted with clusters of wildflowers, their colors faint in the morning light.

Snufkin travelled on a narrow trail between two slopes that led up to the mountains’ summits, stepping over roots and stones, keeping himself focused on the meadows up ahead. 

The world was quite silent, all save for the occasional call of a bird. Snufkin looked up to see one fly overhead and disappear into a nearby cluster of trees. The air was otherwise still, the breeze slowing to stillness as the day grew warmer.

Snufkin knew how much he could have enjoyed this, walking here in the peace and quiet. This was one of his favorite times, to exist alone with the world. But now he found he could not. Instead, the tranquil world served as a way that he might pull his mind away from his troubled thoughts and the memories of the previous day that continued to gnaw at him. 

By the time he finally reached the distant meadows, the sun was already beginning to set, washing the tall grass in gold and filling the sky with red. Snufkin searched out a small clearing not too far from the edge of the trees, setting up his tent and arranging stones for a fire pit. He searched out kindling and wood for the fire and arranged it all into the ideal shape—enclosed enough to preserve the heat when it was lit, but open enough that it wouldn’t be extinguished. Taking a match from his bag, he lit the kindling, and fixated on the growing brightness of the flames. They grew and spread, devouring the kindling, shriveling it into crisp, ashen fibers. Slowly but surely, it climbed up the wood, charring its surface. Snufkin seated himself beside the fire, absorbing its warmth. He watched as the last threads of sunlight disappeared, giving way to the onyx sky. A pillar of smoke and sparks rose high in the air before drifting off and vanishing in the endless sky.

A cool breeze sent a shiver up Snufkin’s spine. He placed his paw on his shoulder, imagining the warm, familiar paw that had been there only two nights before.   
He closed his eyes and imagined the soft rush of water beneath the bridge, and the valley outlined in silver moonlight. He imagined his best friend was beside him, telling him a story about his day. Hopefully Moomin was asleep now. Snufkin prayed he was not too upset, but the memory of the sadness in Moomin’s eyes stood out in his mind. The things he’d said… He had never turned his friend away like this before. And sure, Moomin was usually much more understanding, but… Snufkin had never acted so aggressive towards him, it was nothing like him to be like this! He had lost control and blown the whole thing out of proportion. He was a fool. A stupid fool. He shouldn’t have let his emotions get the best of him like this. He wasn’t ever to lose his composure like that, or lash out. What an absolute fool. 

Snufkin curled up, drawing his knees to his chest and hiding his face. What a fool he had made of himself… What must Moomin think of him now? Would he still look up to him as he did? Perhaps he’d told the others too, and now everyone knew about how he’d acted this whole trip. He shouldn’t have spoken to Moomin about his worries. Maybe he never should have come to the valley in the first place, and this could have been avoided. 

Why did he care? About any of this?

Snufkin lay back and stared into the sky, studying the blinking stars. He reached out his hand as if to grasp them and—

His hand was gone. 

Snufkin sat up, stunned. He lifted his other hand to examine it, but found it too was nowhere to be seen. And yet, he could still feel them, still move them? He stared at the space where his hands should have been, half in disbelief, realizing what had happened.

~ • ~

The morning came like a soft greeting, through which Snufkin wearily gathered his possessions and trudged onwards, never letting his gaze leave the silhouettes of the distant city. Dew soaked into the cuffs of his trousers as the tall grass brushed against the fabric, and the fields looked not unlike the ocean itself as the breeze sent the grasses waving. 

The sun beat down from its perch in the top of the sky when Snufkin at last set foot in the town at the edge of the city. It began with small houses all complete with gardens, and connected to one another with sandy walkways. There hardly seemed to be any people around, perhaps they were busy at work elsewhere. But as Snufkin passed a house where two children scampered about playing in the yard, he couldn’t help but notice the whispers exchanged between them, the giggling, the pointing and the cheeky grins. He shrugged it off. It didn’t matter.

As he continued on, the buildings grew denser, the yards smaller, the sand paths became brick roads. Here, unlike the small town before, the world was alive with motion. Market stands stood here and there, foreign items for sale, and the buildings grew taller and taller—plaster buildings with colorful floral patterns painted on them. Every alley strung with drying clothes. People populated these streets, hurrying along their ways, caught up in their day-to-day lives. 

As Snufkin passed them by, he could practically feel the looks they were giving him. Some with curiosity, confused as to why clothing and a bag, topped with a hat, were hovering along through the street. Some giving looks of pity, even sometimes amusement or judgment, at the mumrik’s invisible state. Snufkin pulled his hat down lower over his face, even though there was nothing there to hide. He prayed this would not continue. He wanted nothing more right now than to walk through here in peace. 

As he walked through the town square, the busiest part of the whole place, he passed a group, perhaps his age, gathered on the pedestal of a large statue, some seated on the stone, others leaning against it. He kept his eyes glued forward, maintaining his steady step, as one called out and directed the others’ attention to him. Snufkin kept his eyes forward and his composure stiff as jeers and mockery were thrown his way. He kept onward. He wouldn’t spare them a glance. God, he did not want to be here. He quickened his pace, the onlookers noticing, only throwing more insults.

"Coward! Wimp!" 

He picked up his pace until he began to run, sick and tired of the ever-farther calls. And as he ran, his clothing too turned invisible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! I lost track of time as this week has been very busy. Well, I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Here are links to the songs this story was inspired by. Probably should have linked them at the beginning but oh welp.   
> "Evelyn Evelyn" by Evelyn Evelyn — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hhs-Pkr-LrY  
> "Tiger Mountain Peasant Song" by Fleet Foxes — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7xPjk1ldjg

Snufkin had secured his tent on the roof of a small brownstone building, giving him a view of the seemingly endless rooftops all around, forming a labyrinth-like pattern of terracotta across the landscape. The warm glow windows and streetlamps filled the horizon with an orange haze that blocked out a good many stars, leaving only a handful of winking lights in the sky. The terracotta tiles were not very comfortable to sit on, and so, Snufkin rolled up his sleeping mat and sat on it as he ate a small portion of bread he had stashed in his bag. Having barely eaten in days, the usually bland bread tasted heavenly. It was almost reminiscent of Moominmamma’s baking… Snufkin sighed and curled in on himself, being reminded of his rude departure after Moomin and his family had welcomed him at their home. He thought back to the night before he’d left, the quiet comfort of Moomin’s room and the quiet comfort of being near to him as they slept. Snufkin stared at the remaining piece of bread held in his invisible paws before wrapping it in cloth and tucking it away in his bag once more. He took up his mat and unrolled it in his tent, deciding it was best he rested, and so he went straight to sleep, willing the day to end.

Sleep did not come easily. And when it did, he found himself in a dreamscape, sitting in the tall, wild grass of an empty field.

He stood and scoped out his surroundings. The sky was white as it was in the autumn, and the grasses were brittle and dry. Snufkin spotted a single small bunch of pennycress and he plucked it from the ground, examining its white petals. A moment later, the tiny petals dissolved into a fine dust that fell away. Snufkin looked up and stiffened. There Moomin was, standing behind him. His eyes were blank, and seemed to be fixated on a point in the distance, practically looking right through Snufkin’s head as though he weren’t there. 

"Moomin? I-I’m sorry—"

But Moomin’s gaze remained blank and distant.

And then, for a brief moment, Moomin’s eyes locked with Snufkin’s, and they were filled with a dreadful combination of disgust and sadness that sent a shiver up Snufkin’s spine. And then as quickly as they met eyes, Moomin turned away. The world around them morphed into a hallway with a great, tall ceiling and pale walls, and Snufkin watched helplessly as Moomin walked away to the end of it, to a tall wooden door. Moomin creaked it open, a beam of golden morning light streaming into the hallway, before shutting the door behind him, flooding the hallway with musty shadows once more.

Snufkin broke into a run, promptly swinging open the door. But instead of finding Moomin there, he gazed up at the blurred, vague image of someone familiar, standing against the bright light, silhouette outlined by the sun. Tall and beautiful, he could only tell that much, he’d seen her before—

It was his mother. He knew it had to be her. And yet try as he might, he couldn’t force his dream to form her face, if just to look at it for a brief moment. But the face remained blank and faded. She remained a blur.

Snufkin tried to call out, but no sound escaped him. His lips felt stiff and his voice was like molasses in his throat. He tried to cry out in frustration, but it was as though his mouth were sealed shut. And in a second, the tall figure of his mother vanished and the world shifted once more to form an empty forest, not a soul in sight. Endless rows of dense pine trees, only letting in thin wisps of light into the fog in their branches, giving the world a soft, blue-green glow.

Not a bird called, and not one bit of movement could be felt from anywhere around. And yet, Snufkin felt a presence near him, nearing him. It was coming for him. He felt the sudden urge to run. But try as he might, he couldn’t move his legs, like they were nailed to the ground, his vision was blurring, he—

Snufkin’s form jolted and his eyes shot open to stare at the canvas of his tent above him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his thundering heartbeat, relaxing his tense muscles and reassuring himself that it was all a dream. However, he found himself peering out of his tent over the cityscape, as to ensure that he was indeed safe. 

The sky had turned a rose gold and the buildings all around were tinted a dark red. The first rays of the sun were peering over the edge of the horizon. It seemed most of the world was still asleep, the only sound being the pattering of some lone traveller’s footsteps in the streets below— _like me,_ Snufkin thought.

He stretched the stiffness from his limbs and his back, and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. With the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, there was no way he’d be able to fall back asleep now, and surely the sunlight would keep him awake either way. What a stupid dream…

Snufkin gathered his possessions, and prepared himself for another day of travels. The hollow, aching feeling in his chest was horribly present, and combined with his lack of proper sleep and nourishment, Snufkin found himself unsteady and dizzy, his thoughts slow and unclear. He forced himself to finish his piece of bread and decided on searching out a place where he could buy coffee, and perhaps something more substantial to eat.

He made his way across rooftop after rooftop of adjacent brownstones until he reached the edge of the block, where a tree stood beside the face of the building. With great care, he climbed down the tree, doing his best to balance the weight of his bag as he went. Once he neared the bottom, he dropped his bag onto the ground. He hopped down and landed cat-like on all fours with a soft thud. He took his bag and continued on his way, doing the best to take in the scenery, rather than to let his mind wander.

He wandered through the streets, examining the shop windows as he passed them. He came across a quaint bake shop and slipped inside. There was a bell attached to the door and it let out a loud ring that made him jump. The young woman at the counter looked up from sorting through a stack of papers, giving the seemingly empty doorway with a levitating bag a somewhat alarmed and confused stare; but a pitying look overcame her when she spotted Snufkin’s bag, realizing her customer was inflicted with invisibility. Snufkin made his was forward, averting his gaze from her’s, and he placed his invisible paws on the counter.

"What can I get you today?" The woman’s voice was sugary and grating.

Snufkin examined the menu of beverages and the racks of baked goods on the back wall. He was about to place his order when he found that his voice made no sound.

The woman watched in impatience, pursing her lips as the silence was drawn out, until realization struck her again. "Oh, yes, here," she handed him a pen and a scrap sheet of paper.

Snufkin began to write out his order, feeling rather pathetic. He could only just hear the woman murmur under her breath—"You poor little thing."

Snufkin winced at that, indignant, his invisible face heating up with embarrassment. He promptly handed the scrap of paper to the woman and rummaged through his pockets for his little bag of coins as the woman told him the cost. The woman searched about the shelves for his order and poured him a fresh cup of coffee, and handed him the items. Snufkin meandered to one of the tables in the shop and quickly drank the coffee, not caring that it seared his tongue. Once he finished, he hurried to the counter, returned the cup, and left with his meal, eating it as he went. He did’t want to spend any more time there than necessary.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rest in pieces little lad

The meal and caffeine had certainly helped Snufkin to revive a bit of his energy, but regardless, he spent away the day half distracting himself with his travels, spiting himself and feeling rather miserable. As with the day before, every now and then he’d be met with pity or mocking for his current state, and each time he’d wish he could simply disintegrate into the ground.

And when night fell, even in spite of his tiredness, sleep would not come until the early morning. And even then, he would wake up very soon afterwards, finding himself unable to fall asleep again—shaken by more nightmares. Every time his dreams began, he found himself faced with his best friend, who stood blank and disappointed, always turning away as if to forget him. He’d run to catch him, only to find the foggy image of his mother, and as soon as she appeared, she’d be gone, and Snufkin would find himself trapped, alone in a desolate forest, being followed by some formless entity out to hunt him.

By the third day of unpleasant encounters and the third night of nightmares, Snufkin lay miserable on another rooftop, too tired to even set up his tent, resorting to using his bag as a pillow. It’s not like he’d fall asleep for a while anyway, and the roof tiles dug into his spine. He stared up into the hazy sky, at the handful of stars still visible, and he longed for the view from the valley, where the stars seemed to be infinite, like salt spilled across a black sheet. And he imagined that Moomin was beside him, radiating warmth, pointing out all the constellations he could see. Smiling proudly. Such a wonderful image, but it only served to worsen the ache in Snufkin’s chest. It was bitterly cold here with his back against the uneven terra cotta tiles. He had to sever himself from this longing. He couldn’t allow it to pin him down. He couldn’t let himself be ensnared by that warmth…

Why couldn’t he rid himself of this longing, as he had in the past? It had never served him any good.

He recalled a time, many years before he’d met the Moomins, when he was still very young. He remembered feeling similarly to this. His sleep being tormented with dreams of his mother, his days being filled with a longing for warmth. Her warmth. A longing for a single memory of her face. A longing for even a single memory of his father at all. But try as he might, he was devoid of any of this, and after a great deal of misery, he decided: it was no good to allow himself to feel this longing.

And so he taught himself never to grow too attached to anyone or anything. No belongings, no location, no other person. How else could he be free?

Yet as he travelled farther and farther from the valley, farther from any possibility of being ensnared by that warmth, the more ensnared he came to feel. Every step was another weight dragging him down.

As the sun neared the horizon, the night’s violet turning to silver, Snufkin stretched and resigned to wakefulness. It was too late to try sleeping again. He took up his bag, his muscles feeling weak, and made his way over the rooftops, just as he had every morning. Upon reaching the end of the block, he came across another patch of trees beside the building, perfect for climbing down. He stepped carefully, wary of his exhaustion and weakened limbs, picking his way through the thick foliage. As he went, he spotted several clusters of fruits, bright and ripe. Perfect for the day’s breakfast, he decided. And so what if the tree "belonged" to someone? Who was to say he couldn’t steal away with some, and who was to say a tree could be owned anyway? Snufkin lowered himself until he found he was low enough to drop his bag onto the ground. It landed with a heavy thud, and at that, Snufkin made his way back up into the tree, able to move with a great deal more agility now that his mobility was not limited. He clambered up to a particularly dense cluster that caught a good deal of sunlight, the branch near the buildings, jutting out quite a bit from the rest of the tree’s form. He reached out, taking the first fruit and holding it in his mouth. He took a second, a third, cramming them into his pockets, reaching for a fourth…

"You there!" An angry voice called out. Snufkin froze. He looked to the side to see a furious looking fillyjonk standing on a balcony right next to the tree. "Don’t think I don’t know you’re there! You can’t hide from me!" The fillyjonk hissed. She took up a broom, and before Snufkin could respond, began to jab it in his direction. "Little pest! Get down from there, you thief!"

Snufkin inched backwards, struggling to navigate while simultaneously trying to avoid the broom’s blow. He felt a heavy shove against his side, and before he could even feel that he’d lost his grip, he found himself plummeting from his perch towards the ground.

_Snap!_

Snufkin slammed into the ground with a yelp. For a moment he lay numb and frozen, before feeling a burst of pain shoot through his body from his leg. The pain seemed to devour all his thoughts, drowning him, and he lay stiff and trembling on the earth.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he finally was able to clear his thoughts and force himself to sit up. His head was spinning and his whole body seemed to ache. Carefully, he lifted himself from the ground, trying to stand, but immediately collapsed the moment he tried to put any weight on his leg, feeling another bolt of pain. He resorted tosearching about the tree’s roots for a stick that could be used for a splint, trying to move his leg as little as possible as he went. When he found a stick her deemed good enough for use, he took his scarf and used it to secure the splint. How on earth did he plan on traveling like this? He felt a boiling disdain towards that fillyjonk, and then towards himself for being such a fool.

He had to face it. He knew leaving the valley was a bad idea, and while he hadn’t expected things to take such a turn… he shouldn’t have left regardless. Snufkin leaned against his bag and stared up into bright blue sky. Several clusters of soft, white clouds were drifting into view.What was he thinking? This trip hadn’t helped him one bit. Each night seemed lonelier than the last, and he longed for that peace he had felt when he’d stayed in the Moominhouse. Each day was just a task of trying to distract himself from his gnawing thoughts and the ache in his chest, and who knows all the time he’d wasted now that he could have spent with the most important people in the world to him…

Snufkin ran his fingers over the rough grass beneath him, imagining that he was in the meadows in the valley. He tried to picture the sound of the rushing stream, but instead all he heard were the sounds of passing footsteps and conversation, the busyness of the town. He had to go back h— to the valley. It certainly wouldn’t be easy now that he’d injured himself, and it would certainly take longer. God, why did he try to steal those fruits?

Suddenly bordering on furious, mostly with himself, Snufkin sat up, and scanned his eyes over the ground, searching for a stick large enough that he could use it for support. Once he had found one, with great difficulty, he took up his bag and made his way to the street, his leg pulsing and burning, but he pressed onwards.

He carried on like so for the rest of the day, carefully avoiding running into any strangers on the street, and stopping every now and then to rest, or to safely buy nourishment from a vendor. More and more clouds gathered above, and the still air took on a slight breeze.

Day after day this continued, and Snufkin pressed on, determined. The buildings around him grew smaller and more sparse, and the streets grew less busy. And he found when night came that he slept sooner, his dreams grew more quiet, and he awoke less shaken. The sky became a deep, thick blanket of white. The buildings became scattered houses once more, with sand paths connecting them, and the meadows expanded far ahead, the mountains surrounding the valley visible in the distance. Snufkin picked up his pace, feeling a burst of energy simply from looking at them.

He set up camp in the middle of the meadows one night on his trek back, and as he tried to sleep, he found himself riddled with anxieties once more. Wondering, whether or not Moomin would want anything to do with him after he had stormed off, and so childishly at that! Snufkin shuddered at the memory of their fight, wondering what Moomin must think of him now, wondering what any of the others might think. He had fallen apart this year, and in a way that felt so unlike him. He couldn’t stand the idea that the others now saw such a side to him… he was supposed to be well composed and calm, someone the others could come to for help, not someone who came crawling for help themselves. But… it seemed now, going back was better than the alternative. He couldn’t stand another day by himself with everything that was weighing him down now. And still, there was that longing that wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how hard he tried…

Snufkin fell asleep to his troubled thoughts and awoke the next morning hardly feeling refreshed at all, but still he continued on his way towards the valley. The clouds in the sky were growing heavier by the hour now, and the air was dense with the scent of an oncoming storm. Snufkin tried to hurry as best as he could manage, but as he began making his way up into the mountains, he found his injury to be a great setback, and he had barely covered much ground before a thin drizzle came down. It was late evening, and there was no way he’d even get close to halfway before the following day, though thankfully, the mountains’ slopes had been gentle thus far. He set up his camp, preparing for another dreary night. The light rain turned into large, warm drops that pelted against Snufkin’s hat and clothes, soaking him through.

And yet, he found himself standing out in the open as night fell and the rain continued to pelt down. The air was warm and humid, and something about the rain felt almost comforting. Snufkin sat beside his half set-up tent for what must have been hours before dozing off.

He awoke again, with the rain still coming down, and the clouds above a deep slate. It must have been early morning, judging by what little light filtered down. Snufkin once more gathered his possessions, suddenly feeling just how exhausted he was. The pain in his leg had become a warm ache so long as he didn’t move it too much. He hadn’t thought through the difficulty of traveling through the mountains in such a state.

He moved onwards at a sluggish pace, avoiding obstacles as best he could, and the day seemed to fly by. By the time he reached the highest point on the downward slope between two ridges, the rain had subsided a great deal, and he looked on with a new rush of energy at the valley below. Mist clung to the edges of the mountains, and the stream could be seen cutting across the expanses of meadows, full and rushing from the rainfall. He could see all the houses that dotted the landscape, and his eyes focused on the dark form of the familiar blue tower.

Snufkin continued, picking up his pace as night fell. The rain ceased and the clouds began to thin, allowing a soft silver light to flood down over the valley, illuminating the glittering drops of water on every leaf and branch. He wouldn’t stop now. He carried on, through the night, taking great caution at every step, but at the same time in a hurry. As he neared the bottom, the sky was growing lighter and the mist was thicker. Every muscle in Snufkin’s body told him to stop and take some time to rest, and his head spun, but he made his way down to the foot of the mountain regardless, passing through the rows of pine trees through which he had escaped nearly two weeks earlier.

A wave of relief hit him as he walked out into the open, his old campsite, the bridge, they were all so nearby. Snufkin was hit with a final burst of speed, before he collapsed in a heap right in front of the bridge.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the final chapter! This fic was rather short, and I did very well enjoy writing it, though I can't say I'm entirely happy with it. It did feel pretty out of character at some points, but I hope it was an enjoyable read nonetheless, and I hope you'll all enjoy this last bit as well ^^

Moomin awoke that morning to the pale, grey light after last night’s storm. He stretched, and stood from his bed, and made his way to his window, opening up his curtains to let in the thin wisps of morning light. He gazed out over the valley, resting his head in his paws. He pictured himself on the bridge with Snufkin by his side, just as they were every other year, until now…

Moomin’s eyes fell on a small, dark shape by the bridge. He squinted, it looked like a bag… like Snufkin’s bag…

Moomin’s eyes widened in disbelief, and then in surprise, and he bolted from the window and hurried out of his room. He scampered down the stairs and through the kitchen.

"What’s got you in such a rush?" Moominpappa asked as Moomin rushed by.

"I think I see Snufkin’s bag!" Moomin exclaimed, bursting through the door without waiting for a reply. He dashed down the path towards the bridge, going as quickly as his short legs could carry him. He thundered across the bridge and halted right at the end of it. The bag seemed to be floating mid-air, and there was an indent in the mist beneath it, shaped like a person.

"Snufkin! Oh Snufkin, is that you?" Moomin asked softly, crouching in front of the form. He felt about until his paws felt the shape of Snufkin’s hat. "Oh Snuf, you’ve gone invisible…"

Moomin continued searching about the ground until he felt Snufkin’s paws grasp his own. They were cold and damp, and he could feel them shivering slightly. Anxiety flooded Moomin’s lungs. Why wasn’t Snufkin getting up?

"Can you stand?" Moomin asked. "Uhh… squeeze my hand once for yes, two for no."

Two squeezes.

"Are you hurt?"

Two squeezes again.

Moomin’s heart dropped. "I-I’ll get Moominmamma to help you, don’t worry, okay? Ah—"

He felt Snufkin’s paw slip from his, and he watched as the bag began to lift, hearing awkward scrabbling, and watching as Snufkin’s shape in the mist picked up a large stick that was beside him, using it for support.

"Hey! Don’t force yourself!" Moomin exclaimed. Suddenly, Snufkin seemed to grasp his arm, and he felt Snufkin’s form collapse against him. Moomin stumbled back and grabbed onto the railing of the bridge for support. "Please, Snufkin, be careful!"

Moomin froze when he felt Snufkin’s arms wrap around him, holding him in a desperate embrace. Moomin returned the gesture, letting his own warmth seep into Snufkin’s small, trembling frame. He felt a wave of sadness rush over him as they stood in silence, remaining frozen in their embrace for who knows how long.

"Come on, I’ll— Can I take you to the house? You probably need some fresh clothes and I’m sure mamma can help you…" Moomin suggested sheepishly after a time. He felt Snufkin take his paw and give it a single squeeze.

Without speaking, but reading one another’s actions, Moomin guided Snufkin to the house, arm around his back, Snufkin’s arm over his shoulders for support. Moomin’s heart ached as he felt Snufkin’s movements beside him—his shivering and limping.

The sky grew brighter and the clouds thinner, allowing more light to filter down, turning the greys to soft yellows. The mist began to recede and a warm humidity overcame the air.

Moomin and Snufkin remained in silence, each contemplating in his own mind as they entered the house. Moomin helped Snufkin over to the couch and gently sat him down.

"I’ll go get mamma," Moomin said quietly, slipping away up the stairs.

The living room held a warm, familiar scent that Snufkin couldn’t quite pinpoint, but which he found comforting as he sat in near silence. There were the faint traces of mamma’s cooking in the air, and traces of flowers, but there was something else to it that made it distinct, and filled Snufkin with a feeling not too far off from nostalgia. Moomin and Moominmamma could faintly be heard talking and shuffling about upstairs, but the room was otherwise filled only with the ticking of a clock, and the occasional hum of the wind outside. The purple-grey tones of the room faded to a gentle rose gold as the clouds outside began to dissolve, and sunlight trickled down through the windows. Snufkin leaned back against a cluster of pillows, letting out a long sigh. He stared at the off-white ceiling as a heaviness overtook his eyes.

Snufkin was just beginning to doze off when Moomin and Moominmamma made their way down the stairs. He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and tensed when he saw the round-eyed look Moomin was giving him.

"Your clothes became visible!" Moomin exclaimed as a smile spread across his face. He skipped over to the couch with Moominmamma close behind.

Moominmamma carried her grandmother’s book under her arm, and she handed Snufkin a sheet of paper and a pencil. She asked him questions for a time as she gave him a fresh change of clothes, occasionally slipping in gentle reassurances as he wrote out his answers. Snufkin found himself relaxing at the softness of her voice, even in spite of Moomin scampering about and fussing, trying his best to be of help in anyway he could.

Once she had properly tended to Snufkin’s leg and any other injuries he had, Moominmamma went off to the kitchen to prepare a meal for the two boys. Moomin sat beside Snufkin on the couch, not too close as not to crowd him, but not so far as to be awkward. The world was finally filled with the sunlight of the early afternoon, a shaft of the golden light filtering through the window behind them and illuminating the ends of Moomin’s fur, outlining his round shape.

"I’m sorry for acting like I did," Moomin spoke at last. His voice was hushed, and he looked to where he believed Snufkin’s eyes were. "I shouldn’t have tried to make you stay, and I shouldn’t have told everyone about our conversation. I’m really sorry. Really. I-I don’t expect you to trust me much after that, but I’m just, I’m so glad you’re back."

"No!" Moomin was taken aback at the sound of Snufkin’s stern but soft voice. "Don’t be sorry, I’m sorry! I’m sorry I left."

"It’s okay, really, you needed more time and I didn’t respect that at all. I messed up on multiple levels," Moomin responded.

There was a pause.

"I know I broke your trust, so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want, but… why did you want to go?" Moomin’s voice was so very small.

Snufkin was quiet for a moment, and Moomin feared he had crossed a line again. A spark of panic began to build up in the pit of his stomach, but it was quickly extinguished when Snufkin finally spoke.

"I don’t completely know. I can barely understand it all myself, but what I do know is that I thought—that is, I was afraid I would become trapped by my own longing—so I tried to separate myself from everything I longed for. But then I realized that it was my longing for freedom that trapped me."

Moomin listened intently as Snufkin spoke, his little white ears tilted forward in concentration.

A rush like electricity spread through Moomin when he felt Snufkin’s paw reach for his.

"I hope that this can tell you the things I don’t know how to say," Snufkin whispered.

The next moment, Snufkin pulled Moomin into a tight hug. Moomin returned it, and a tension he didn’t know he had faded away as he felt the warmth radiating from Snufkin’s body, unlike the shivering cold he’d felt before. It was strange, seeing Snufkin speak and act in such a way. He hadn’t ever imagined such a time would come. And yet Moomin took comfort in it, flooded equally by a newfound sense of familiarity, as by a feeling that he’d gotten to know Snufkin anew.

"I don’t want to be afraid anymore," Snufkin’s whispered all the more softly. "I trust you more than anyone else. But I’m still afraid that I’ll be forgotten again." There was a growing, quivering tension in Snufkin’s voice and Moomin’s heart wrenched. "You’re everything to me, but I’m— scared I’ll become nothing. I’m sorry, I just— I’m always scared—" Snufkin’s voice broke. Moomin could feel as Snufkin’s tears soaked into the fur on his shoulder.

"I don’t want you to be scared… You know you don’t have to be, you’re safe here," Moomin assured, holding Snufkin more tightly against himself, shutting his eyes, taking in the feeling. "You always will be, I promise it. I won’t ever forget you. You won’t ever be nothing, cause, cause you’re everything to me too."

"I don’t know how to change," Snufkin replied, sniffling.

"You don’t have to change. No matter what, I’ll always be right here waiting for you. Even if we fight sometimes, or if you’re far away, even if it’s for a long time, I won’t leave you and I won’t forget you, not ever." 

There was a long pause as Moomin and Snufkin held each other close, Snufkin silently allowing his tears to fall, for once not trying to stop them, and Moomin silently embracing him, hoping in all his heart that that would be enough to tell him that he didn’t need to fear a thing. And Moomin felt as though his heart were about to burst as he spoke again. "I—I love you, Snufkin…"

"I… love you too…" Snufkin mumbled, burying his face in Moomin’s fur. Moomin opened his eyes as warmth spread through him, and a warm laugh burst from his chest. He pulled himself from the hug for a brief moment to lock eyes with Snufkin, who stared back at him in shock. There were thin scratches and cuts on Snufkin’s cheeks and his auburn hair was a mess, his face was streaked with tears and yet his eyes were bright with life. A small, shaky smile spread across Snufkin’s face, and the two collapsed into each other once more.


End file.
